One Frosty Morning in June

One thing I love about living in Canberra are the frosts.   In Adelaide we perhaps got one or two frosts around my birthday at the end of July.  I always thoughts I'd get ready to photograph the frost the next day.  Yet the next day of frost rarely came.  

Here we get frosts regularly for 6 or 7 months of the year.  I love the way they transform my garden with beautiful white icy crystals.  It gives me a sense of nostalgia reminding me of my childhood when my parents would announce on many a winter morning that Jack Frost had been to visit overnight.  It alights in me my sense of wonder at the beauty of nature.  The way ice forms its crystals on many varying plants, outlining them with white evenly-shaped forms.   I love the way my children delight in the ice forms.  They generally want to eat the ice which results in fingers becoming frozen and needing to be warmed on our heated tiles inside.  They too delight in this magical winter wonderland that appears every morning that is cold enough.  Voila! - that magical carpet of white!

Choc Bikky Christmas Tree

We had lots of fun baking, decorating and sharing our chocolate biscuit stars. Don't you love the way they form this tree when elegantly stacked by six year old hands guiding her toddler girlfriends and followers. We were due to meet friends in the park so took along the previously decorated biscuits in order to make a Christmas Tree we could share with everyone for morning tea. 'Twas our little gift to bid farewell to a group of little friends as we move from this city next month.

It was so very beautiful to watch my big, almost 7 year old, Ess caring for the little 2 year old girls she has come to know as part of our Kindermusik group we attend for little Eee. She loves them all and will sadly miss them as I know they'll miss her. She watches them, follows them, ensures they are doing well as they climb, play, explore and discover new places without their Mummies yet alongside their bigger girl friend. She certainly has the heart of a mother-carer, my girl. It will be interesting to watch her inclinations as she grows.

Playing Battleship

It is one of man's curious idiosyncrasies to create difficulties for the pleasure of resolving them. ~Joseph de Maistre

Do you remember playing Battleships as a child? I remember drawing up my battleground on grid paper, strategically positioning my battleships, then once prepared, hiding it all from my opponent and trying to find new strategies to win the game. It was a great childhood strategy game encouraging us to think in order to win rather than just be subject to chance or luck after rolling a dice.

So when I spied this modern version of a fun childhood game at our local thrift store (for only $3), I knew it would please my Ess who'd likely play along with her Dad. Sure enough, they were both seen over the weekend with their heads behind their radars striking each other's ships as they battled to win in naval combat.

The only problem is that there are two ships missing - an aircraft carrier and a little patrol boat I think. We used lego pieces (see left container in top pic) to substitute but one needs to be rather delicate to have them balancing in the right position. We'll have to see if we can find the missing pieces to complete the game.

What are your memories of Battleships?

I am From

Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee

Calls back the lovely April of her prime.
~William Shakespeare

Today is my mother's birthday.  She is away visiting her sister who is also celebrating her birthday today.  My aunty is 80 years old, she is 13 years my mother's elder.  Knowing they are celebrating getting older makes me reflect and think about where I am headed and where I am from. 

I recently read this post of Kellie's on Don't Look Now!  I thought it was lovely that she was from a similar place to me but never thought I'd write my own poem.  Then, at times unsuspecting, the poem sprouted and before I knew it my poetic juices were flowing and I had my own history penned.   So if you think you cannot, you will not, I encourage you to let go and see what might flow.  It is actually quite cathartic.  If you do write your own "I'm From" poem please let me know so I can join you in learning more about where you're from.  If you follow the links from Kellie's poem you will find the original from whence it came.

So here's a sneak peak of some of me.

I’m From

I’m from tireless pioneers, hard-working farmers and long dusty trails. From blacksoil plains, deceptive mirages and vast, tree-studded horizons.  From small country town, regional farming community and “townie vs cockie” the former is me!  From Mehi River, Gwydir River, where rivers meet. 

I’m from maternal ancestors trekking across seas, across lands; from England to South Australia, into northern New South Wales, up to central Queensland.  From sheep grazing, wheat farming then cotton as well. Corrugated iron sheds, blue-topped cotton modules, and seasonal “snowy” cotton lined roads.  From worshipping in a country church built by relatives of friends.

I’m from aesthetic beauty: flowers in the garden, arranged in vases, floral shows as well.  From cakes carefully decorated by my mother’s own hand, from embroidery, crochet, sewing, handmade.  Fixing loose threads on my clothing, “not the good scissors!”, stashes of fabric, buttons, binding and ribbons.  Always dressing well to go out.  From Sylvia’s fabrics, pattern hunting and fabric matching.

Paternally from Denmark to Australia, right into Queensland, freezing to heat.  From food production, apple orchards, vegetable growing and home baking.

From awkwardness, confusion; leadership and faith.  From silliness and laughter with my treasured brother and sister.   From independence and competence, achievement and success.

From “hugs and kisses”, “hugs and kisses” among siblings at the end of car journeys, upon arrival at our holiday destination, the “Uh-oh better go to bed” and “I wear my sunglasses at night, to keep my panties on tight” fun play with siblings.

Photo found at  www.Redbubble.com

I’m from the bright yellow daffodil, pretty pink poppy and rich red rose, the calm Carbeen tree, breezy Belah and the beloved, guarded unique Leopard Tree.

From the smoking besa block incinerator in the backyard, the besa block “barby”, begrudged family trips to the dump.

From oranges, mandarins and almonds in the garden, lawns always watered through hot summer months.

From home-sewn school uniform and Dad-knitted navy cardigan, from tights keeping legs warm from pesky, shivery Jack Frost on our front lawn

From Sunday roast dinners and baked beans on toast, salad plate lunches, toast fingers with soup.  From Potatoes La Jolla, Herbed Chicken pieces from “promite, not vegemite” or “vegemite not promite” sandwiches in lunchboxes.

Piano lessons during lunchtime, then through swimming lessons in high school. Piano duets in my best friend’s Mum’s bedroom on weekend retreats from boarding school.  Boarding school challenges, fun and successes.  Singing and singing, and singing some more, “Yes, Jesus loves me”, Christmas carols and rhymes.  Renaissance polyphonies, madrigals, and contemporary and sacred choral works.

I'm from sharing my music, from teaching tiny littlies, imparting my intuition and knowledge to the families I meet.  From meeting my beloved and sharing in our union, from bearing two treasured, precious daughters who now ofttimes lead me in my journey.

And now I am me, here today, returned to the start, growing veges and living down south in South Australia from whence my ancestors came, living and loving creatively, following my Creator.

Farm photos courtesy of my brother and sister-in-law. 

A Gorgeous Giveaway in Europe

A lady, with whom I was riding in the forest, said to me, that the woods always seemed to her to wait, as if the genii who inhabit them suspended their deeds until the wayfarer has passed onward: a thought which poetry has celebrated in the dance of the fairies, which breaks off on the approach of human feet.  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson, "History"

Quickly, quickly, very quickly pop on over to Fröken Skicklig to participate in an absolutely gorgeous giveaway.

Take a journey through a romantic European forest full of fairies, toadstools and bluebirds or whatever your heart conjures up. Be sure to take your daughters with you and enjoy a most enchanting ride.

Ess Goes to School

Making the decision to have a child is momentous.  It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.  ~Elizabeth Stone

Today is Ess' first day of school.  Such a momentous and an emotional time with feelings of pride, excitement, sadness and achievement all mixed in together.

She is very ready to go and was prepared at 8am this morning.  I am so glad that she is ready to learn and to meet new people.  It gives me a sense of achievement at the work I have carried out over these last five years.   Work which I value so highly.  It has passed so quickly.  It does not seem that long since we put your feet in these tiny little Baby Paws to pad around the place.

Then pretty little baby feet were fastened into these sweet shoes to wear with all those adorable little baby dresses.

I have many memories of tying the laces of these gorgeous little Elefanten boots on your chubby toddler feet.  Particularly after all our Kindermusik Our Time lessons with Mr Geoff.

These little boots, of course in your favourite colour pink, walked you to Kindy last year.  You were quite surprised when the new shoes for this year's education could not be pink.  No complaints however - such is your motivation to be at school and hence wear your uniform.  I am so glad.

Shoes have a special way of showing the passage of time.  I have many images of your growing feet in these various shoes participating in so much over the few short years of your life.

Now school has commenced and we are walking off to education again, in uniform and sandals. I hope the motivation to wear it doesn't wane as it is now very easy to choose what to wear in the mornings.

There is a heat-wave here.  The whole week is due to be over 35degC at least. Yesterday the guage at the Central Markets (celebrating 140 yrs coincidently), and on my car, read 45degC at 3pm.  Today is forecast to be 44degC.  It was 39.8degC at 10am this morning after I arrived home at 9.30am ready for my second shower of the day.  No worries about any hot water this morning. The cool was definitely needed.  Overnight it dipped only to 27degC.

So against my principles, but going with my better judgement, I will drive to collect you this afternoon and hope your cheeks are not too red as they were when I left you this morning.

Enjoy your first day, my dear girl, I know you will.

Mysterious Giggles and Sparkles

In Honour of the creative, playful spirit of my Generous Gentleman and my delightful 4 year old daughter Ess.

And as the seasons come and go, here's something you might like to know.

There are fairies everywhere: under bushes, in the air, playing games just like you play, singing through their busy day.

So listen, touch, and look around - in the air and on the ground.

And if you watch all nature's things, you might just see a fairy's wing.

~Author Unknown

When Daddy first went away on his working trip he told us he was hearing lots of giggles in and around his building. He was very curious about where they might be coming from so he snapped some shots everytime he heard a giggle or saw a sparkle and this is what came up in them.

I see something there!

A fairy ring!

One day Daddy heard a giggle coming from inside the sock lying underneath his bed.

He decided to send the sock home to see if I could find out what made the giggle. When the parcel arrived at our house I opened up the package and found a fairy. Her name was Lily. I tried to turn Lily into a real fairy (because she was a doll). First I tried dipping the edge of her wing into the water. Then when we rang Daddy he said that when you catch fairies they turn into dolls until you're not looking. Lily must be a real fairy because she lives in the cabinet but every time I'm not looking she gets out and flies around. I keep discovering her in other places. Now she has a friend, Prilla, who arrived in another package in another one of Daddy's socks I wonder whether any more fairies will arrive in the mail from Daddy's work.

Do you believe in fairies?

[E]very time a child says, "I don't believe in fairies," there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead. ~James Matthew Barrie, Peter Pan

Nurturing Hands

Women are always beautiful. ~Ville Valo

These are the hands which nurutured me.

The hands that held me, carried me, loved me.

These are the hands that cooked for me, fed me, made clothes for me;

washed, dried and dressed me.

These are the hands that taught me to cook, sew, garden etc.

giving me the skills to care for my family and enjoy living a simple life.

My Mum is visiting me at the moment, spending some time using these hands to help me care for her grandchildren while my Generous Gentleman is away.

It is lovely to connect with her again and watch as relationships develop between her and my children. I love to see the anticipation they show to be with their Granny.

Thanks Mum, it is in times like this that I remember how much you love me!

Fun Felt Food

"Sugar & Spice & everything nice . . .
that’s what little girls are made of."

We have had some fabulous fun this week playing with our new felt food created from tutorials found on Day to Day. Afternoon tea parties for Ess and mum and all our friends. With only 3 orange slices to share we were very particular about who could come and how much each could eat. The chocolate raspberry ice creams were shared all round however. Delicious!! I am not sure who got to eat the eggs and tomato but all seemed to be quite satisfied at the end. We have since made a lemon slice to add to our collection which Eee is quite fond of. We hope it lasts so she can enjoy playing with it as she grows.

Childhood play...what could be more fun and innocent! It is so satisfying to watch your creations being enjoyed by little ones.

Eating is fun...yum, yum, yum, yum!

The End of an Age

How hard it is to escape from places. However carefully one goes they hold you - you leave little bits of yourself fluttering on the fences - like rags and shreds of your very life. ~Katherine Mansfield

This week saw the sale of the family farm.

It seems like the end of an age to me. It has been around with us, part of us for as long as I have known, of course, and for many years longer. It has been in my mother's ownership for over 30 years and her family purchased it over 50 years before that. Add that up and it's almost half of Australia's history as a country. It has been the place which was our section of our Australia. The place my ancestors pioneered in the region producing wool, wheat, barley, cotton and more. It was the place my mother grew up. The place she learned to cook, sew and garden, to ride horses. The place she took us back to with her Mum to enjoy lamingtons together on family picnics. Granny always made lamingtons for us to enjoy at Roydon. The place where I remember many fun moments with my family and friends: riding in the tractor, riding on the sulky, learning to drive the car when I was a young teenager, cooking pan-fried scones, camping out, picnics with my Granny, shearing in the shed and observing the many workers.

It was the place I found my little lamb, Bimbo, when I was about 10 years old. She was an orphan lamb whom I chased and chased and chased around the shearing shed, trying to catch her. Lucky for me, but possibly somewhat unlucky for her, she got caught in the fence. It was rather easy for me to "catch" her then. I pulled her out of the fence, showed Dad and we let her rest in the Landrover until we took her back to our home in town. I loved her, doted on her. Unfortunately she died after catching Tetanus after she was bitten by a dog while staying with a friend as we holidayed. This stayed with me for many years. I think I felt it wouldn't have happened if we hadn't left her. Maybe it gave me a very early sense of what responsibility for our loved ones means.

So now that place I am attached to has moved into new ownership. My Mum is pleased that the new owners are the old neighbours. They are happy for us to visit the old homestead whenever we like. I wonder how it will feel next time I do that. I imagine that sense of it being mine, of having been my place, of it being that part of the country my ancestors chose, will not be gone.

Photos courtesy of my brother and sister-in-law! Thankyou.

Blossom Dearie revives Oklahoma in me

During an interview I listened to recently I heard a dear old song which invoked nostalgia, hearkening back the days of my childhood. The song was “Surrey with a Fringe on Top”.

The interviewee, Lisa Forrest, remembers it fondly and states she often sings it to her children at night as they request it frequently: “chicks and ducks, chicks and ducks” they call. The first line of the song being “chicks and ducks and geese better scurry”. This enticed me to sing it to my two, indeed they have fallen in love with it too with Eee accompanying me on the piano and Ess requesting we sing it again and again as she bops and dances.

The song comes from the musical “Oklahoma”. While I don’t recall Mum singing it to us like this, Mum often got out the record she had of this musical, acquired after watching it during high school, and played it when we were kids. I am sure that as I grew older I would have put it on the old record player myself.

The recording I heard this time however was not from the original musical. It was sung by a female, was jazzier and somehow smoother, richer and creamier. I liked it, really liked it, and have since discovered it was a recording of Blossom Dearie singing it in 1958. How have I lived my life without hearing Blossom Dearie before? So now I have purchased her album Once Upon a Summertime and will play it for my daughters with fond recollections of my own childhood; all the while creating new memories for my girls to last a lifetime.

Pictures sourced from